Weekend Angels

 

 

 

 

Life is a bit shorter
With each dying day
Like an old song by Simon
we’re slip-sliding away

The poet’s words are often true
Like a song sung just for you
Loving you, my child, my friend
Is like a song that never ends

This symphony has kept us right
My darling daughters, my guiding light
Each smile and laugh, and every word
Compose a song just we have heard

It’s painful for a weekend dad
Alone all week and often sad
Some tunes need those minor chords
Sometimes sadness writes the words

When Friday comes to ease the pain
My chorus girls warm up again
My orchestra begins to play
And angels sing on Saturday

  

 

 

 

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